son of Belial
the leading incidents of Merv's disreputable
career are to be made public - and not, as
some conservative elements might like to
suggest, decently hushed up - I suppose
Thellie is the woman to bare the facts. I am
unable to claim at this time - though I
can't promise what may happen in the future,
any intimacy with that son of Belial, but I
have made it a sort of by the way habit of
mine to collect little tit bits on the
foremost blot on the Paradisian escutcheon.
And what I have is bad enough.
adventurous spirit so ill tuned to society
decorum has caused him on many an occasion
to provide the depressed proletariat with a
bestial entertainment of the festive sort
provided by the early pioneering Christians
in the Roman arenas.
foresight last week in puffing himself to a
considerable size by donning roomy white
pants and tunic, driving in to the
Rupavahini premises in a spanking vehicle
owned and maintained by the public and
surrounding himself with a smattering of
underworld goons and MSD laddies was
completely neutralised by the fact that he
was compelled to conduct half the days
proceedings while wearing a shocking pink
paint in all over printed design.
Tudawe would have looked askance at such a
lack of dignity in attire. Merv, one could
safely wager would not have made it to the
fashion pages last week. I mean to say
darling even Keerthi Sri would have baulked.
Perhaps one could have forgiven the choice
of colour Merv had on, but the most
sympathetic of fashion critics would have
found it difficult to come to terms with the
design. It was too bold. Too out there. Too
bally loud. In fact watching the whole saga
on telly even Thellie had to close her eyes
for a bit to let the colour scheme dim a
what got me thinking dearie was this.
Rupavahini afterall is your domain. Merv had
only 24 hours before in that crude way of
his dropped some absolute gems about Mangy
and his family at the opening of the
Mahanama Palama in Matara. Not embarrassed
to throw good breeding to the winds the
fellow scolded the organisers for naming the
bridge after Mangy's father Mahanama and
suggested a few other names more suited to
the Mahinda Chnithana, which I believe
included Kurakkan bridge, Kelani Nowana
Palama, and Ice Palam.
is this speech that Merv had wanted so
desperately to have been telecast on the
state channel and threw a tantrum when it
wasn't. Could Merv have mustered up the
nerve to storm the state media
notwithstanding what a perv he is unless he
got a bit of a nod of approval from you was
what Thellie was thinking.
it be that you secretly harboured within
your bosom a bitterness against Mangy such
as one would get in the aftertaste of a
dollop of marmalade hastily eaten. After all
it was only a day before that you had dialed
'M' for Mangy and spoken to his mummy
instead. As if mummy didn't have anything
better to do, you hung on the crackling
phone wires for an hour. Darling, I recall
my teenage years when hanging on the
telephone was a good excuse for getting away
from the bally homework. In your case with
the Medamulane mallis running the show and
doing all the home work for you, the aiya
has nary to do except twiddle his fingers in
the alleyways of Beliatte and plot and plot
if not plan and plan.
would rather drink than think darling but
all this Merv stuff has got me grey matter
on a bit of a roll. I could see you chaps
were shaken by the rise of the common man
against the behaviour of politicians
regardless of their affiliations. You would
have noticed, while your knees knocked each
other, that you, who even accompanied Merv
to that oddly constituted legal fellow Denga
in order to extricate the chip off the ole
block from a lifetime in prison, was also
the target of the wrath of the Martyred
Martyred Pee made no bones about it either.
I clearly recall a blunt instrument been
made use of in a most appropriate manner.
Before you drag off poor Thellie from her
lifestyle of champagne and caviar to be a
witness in a filthy court for your foul
minister, let me hastily add that I saw not
the hand nor the face belonging to the hand
that dealt the blow so accurately on Merv's
much deserved bally nut.
I must say the last time I had observed such
a scene was when that late Rajiv chap from
across the Palk Strait was inspecting a
guard of honour in ole Paradise. Leave it to
the Paradisians to spice up the news of an
evening is what I always say.
later Merv had to take up lodgings in the
accident service is nobody's fault but his
own. No doubt among the many symptoms he
invented, there would have been included,
like with his son before him, a feeling of
do not worry your pretty head about
parliamentary numbers dearie now that you
are down to a modest 111. And you know what
they say about the 111 in cricket eh?
Howzaaat is usually heard reverberating
around the pavilion as a dejected batsman
hangs his head lower than Tom Dooley.
I digress. Merv will always be there for you
even unto the ends of the earth and dearie
the way you are going the end is nearer than
you think. Politically speaking of course
And no doubt if he is compelled to be absent
from a parliamentary sitting due to feeling
vomitish and what not the good sports doctor
who now heads the medicina alternative
thingamajig will serve Merv a Mendis Special
in the form of a dubious medical certificate
like he did for Sonny boy not many moons
dearie this Merv chap has been ranting and
raving like a pit bull in a pre school
mainly focusing on the independent media.
Now that the kept press is getting a dose of
his unbearable charm, one is reminded of
that fellow Lee Molai...No.that's not
it..Niemoller..yes that's it. Martin his
first name was if I recall correctly.
know what I mean darling?..first they came
for the Jews but I wasn't a Jew so didn't
speak up.then they came for the leading rag
and I wasn't a leader so I didn't speak
up..then they came for the island but I
wasn't an islander so I didn't speak up,
then they came for the Maharajahs and I
didn't speak up because I wasn't a bally
maharajah and then they came for me.by that
time there was no one to speak up for
you think doesn't it?
old sock, I'm off to suck on a Cuban cigar.